In Our World
by Love Thy Shadow
Summary: We've all dreamed of a reality where Pokemon became part of our world, but given the harshness that is Mother Nature, is this a dream that we really want to come true? Is humanity really ready for this gift or will we abuse it? Original characters and Pokemon concepts. Rated Teen, as the violence and language within may not be appropriate for all readers.
1. Chapter 1

In Our World

_Author's Note: Ok, let's get the formalities out of the way right off the bat. I do not own Pokémon, nor any of the other shows, games, products, etc that are referenced within this fic. There are original characters and original (some not so much) ideas for Pokémon as well. Some of you may not like that, so consider this a warning._

_Now, on to the fun stuff. Hello everyone, I'm 'Love Thy Shadow' and this is my first foray into fanfiction. What I offer up as my debut project is my take on a familiar fantasy of many of us Pokémon fans: What if Pokémon was real? I for one would love it, but at the same time, I doubt that it'd be the peaceful/innocent world presented to us in the show and games. Quite frankly, I expect chaos to reign supreme, at least initially, but given time, it'd become a wonderful world to live in. Please be warned, this fic will contain violence, some of it potentially of a shocking nature. There will definitely be some uncouth language and probably some 'adult' situations in here as well, but hopefully you'll be mature enough not to be offended by such material. If you are, consider yourself forewarned._

_Sit back, relax, and prepare to embark on a journey that we've all dreamt about: Pokémon… In Our World._

Prologue

"Alright class, you've got your groups, so please stick with your guide and you'd all better be on your best behavior for these kind folks!"

With that warning, the herd of children that had been gathered in the cavernous marble foyer dissolved into several small groups of four, each group eagerly running to join the guide that they had been assigned. Well, all of them save for one group of young boys, who eyed the elderly white-haired man standing opposite them with obvious distaste.

"How come we get stuck with the walking dead?" One boy remarked quietly to his comrades.

"Hmmm? You say something sonny?" The old man shuffled his way towards the youngsters, each step accompanied with a hefty clack from his wooden cane against the marble floor. The man wore a content smile that barely showed through his bushy mustache and his eyes appeared as little more than slits behind a pair of spectacles.

The boy who had spoken put on a fake smile and turned to the elderly gent. "Nope, nothing important… gramps," the last word whispered silently under his breath before continuing, "Can we start the tour?"

"Oh yes… yes, of course." The old man turned towards one of the adjoining rooms and began walking towards the entrance. The children grudgingly fell into step behind him, the comedian imitating the old man's hunched figure, much to the delight of the other three.

The guide raised his free hand, make a grand sweeping gesture of the plaque mounted above the archway that marked the room's entrance. "Here is where the legends are immortalized. Champions and their Pokémon dating all the way back to the first League tournament back in 2015. Welcome to the Hall of Fame."

"Betcha gramps here was alive back then."

"You're damn right I was."

The children gave the old man a look of shock, partially surprised that he had heard the hushed comment, but mostly out of disbelief. "But… that was like… fifty years ago!"

"Aye, fifty-two to be specific. I was twenty-seven… no, twenty-eight years old at the time of that tournament." The old man let out a lengthy sigh as he regarded the first photo on the wall. "Back then, people were still learning how to integrate Pokémon into our everyday lives. It took a few years after the first Pokémon were discovered before they could form a structured League to oversee the battles that the people craved."

The children gathered alongside the guide, suddenly eager to listen intently to every word that came from the old man's mouth. They looked at the picture of a smiling young man with a trio of salivating canines and a couple of bovine beasts.

The old man smiled wistfully as he raised his cane, pointing to the picture. "Let's see… Richard Irving… He had three wolves, one fire, a fighting type, and a poison type. Hell, for the most part, that was the only manner we could identify the Pokémon, just label it by its type and base creature, unless it was one that somewhat resembled one from the games. There were… oh god, how many were there in the games back then… six hundred and fifty or so that a lot of us knew. So, like in the case of those other two Pokémon there in the picture, a Tauros and a Miltank, we had some sort of idea what they were capable of. If memory serves correctly, Richard also had the very first ghost Pokémon ever captured, but it never showed up in any of the pictures you took of it.

"Pokémon used to be a game?"

"Not just a game, it was everywhere! There was a show and trading cards and plushies and board games. You name it; there was a Pokémon related version of it. Hell, there was even a theme park over in Japan." The old man chuckled to himself as he continued walking along, "Boy, the Japanese were pissed that it took five months after the first Pokémon appeared for one to show up over there. Serves them right for delaying the English releases of the games…"

The old man gave his head a shake as he tapped his cane rhythmically on the floor, "Anyways, in those early days, Pokémon were still quite uncommon, so most trainers were lucky to get more than two, let alone form a complete team of six. Which would be why Richard won the League tournament four of the first five years. Only year he lost, the other guy, Tory Mitchell, had a ground/fighting hybrid buffalo that steam-rolled Irving. That thing was a beast. It wasn't until the second Pokémon boom of 2020 when the real competitive tournaments began."

"Mister…" One of the boys raised an inquisitive hand, waiting until he received a nod from the guide before posing his question, "They teach us a lot in school about the early days of the League, but they hardly mention anything about those first few years after the Discovery. Why is that?"

The old man nodded solemnly. He motioned with his cane towards a nearby bench and the four youngsters clambered to take a seat. "Those first years were some bad times. People were scared… and there were other people out there that took advantage of that fear. Luckily for everyone, some young folks and their Pokémon took on the role of heroes. It was thanks to their actions that Pokémon still exist to this day." Taking a deep breath, the elderly guide looked sternly into the expectant eyes of his charges, "Do you want to hear their story?"

He knew they would nod their heads in response. Every group nodded their heads to that question. With a smile and a tap of his cane, the old man began his story.

Chapter 1: Origins

It was a snowy New Years Eve that had heralded in the coming of 2013. The temperature outside from an ungodly forty degrees below the freezing mark on the Centigrade scale and that wasn't even counting the wind chill. Judging how the wind buffeted the small car every time it crested a hill or left the protective shielding granted by a copse of trees, the actual temperature must have felt more like negative fifty-five. Welcome to your typical Canadian winter.

The small car's heater was cranked to full, trembling gloved hands constantly pressed against the strained vents in an attempt to absorb enough heat before returning to the steering wheel. The faded green LED's of the car's dashboard proclaimed the time to be one-thirty a.m. A faint melody escaped from the vehicle's speakers, yet it went mostly unheard against the howling winds.

Outside, a swirling blanket of snow bombarded the car's progress along the country road. The driver was forced to proceed with just his low beams on, due mostly to the fact that his high beams produced a glaring warp effect, much like what they used in the Star Wars movies. As a kid, he had loved watching that sight from the safety of the back seat. Not so much now that he was the one behind the wheel.

A dark red tuque was pulled tightly over the driver's head and ears, but a large tuft of shaggy chestnut colored hair still poked out the backside and over the collar of his thick jacket. His hazel eyes strained to stay open as he fought off the urge to give in to the warmth of the heater and fall asleep. A slight warmth still burned deep within his core from the spirits consumed during the evening's festivities. At least his stomach was contently full.

"Next year, I'm hosting the god damned New Years' party, just so those bastards have to drive thru this crap." Ah yes, there was the bitter, anti-social personality of his proudly rearing its ugly head. Our friend here wasn't a big fan of social gatherings, or people in general, but there were certain occasions that one simply didn't observe solo. New Years Eve was one of those, especially when it was a reunion of sorts of one's old high school friends. Although, it also served the dual purpose of reminding our friend why he hadn't made an effort to stay in touch with these people for the last seven years.

He was somewhere east of his hometown of Wetaskiwin, Alberta, a place that, if given the choice, he'd never return to again during his lifetime. The teenagers of this particular small city often grew up with the single goal of leaving the city and going anywhere else. It was about as boring of place as anywhere on the entire planet. Hell, the only ideal of fun that existed in the entire city was visiting the local Wal-mart. Yeah, it was one of 'those' cities. A shudder ran down his spine as he spotted the lights of the city off in the distance out the driver's side window.

He couldn't help but let out a dejected sigh as he continued the slow crawl through the snow. It had been another of those annoying nights that reminded him of just how far behind he was on life's journey compared to everyone he knew. Everyone at the party had their fiancée or girlfriend proudly latched on at the elbow, while he had been the only one in attendance that was flying solo. His old friends spent the night telling stories of their worldly travels and of their other exciting post-college activities. He could only mumble curses about his two separate drop-outs from college and the multitude of crappy jobs that he had since high school.

"I'm surprised by you Blythe; you were one of the smartest guys in high school. How come you weren't able to do anything with that?"

Yeah, that comment had stung, probably just as much as having carried around the name Blythe for all twenty-five years of his life. Joyous and cheerful, my ass. Bloody hippy parents… But, anyways, wasn't that so kind of his friend for essentially pointing out to him that his life had been a waste? Blythe felt his hands tighten around the wheel as he followed a slight curve in the road. He took a deep breath, feeling the stinging chill invade his throat much to his chagrin.

"This year, things will be different," he promised himself as his mind began concocting one of the many fantasies that he often became lost in. Surprisingly, it wasn't the lottery fantasy, nor was it the one with the programmable life form that he'd make his girlfriend… Ok, so maybe his life was a little pathetic…

Suddenly, a dark form popped out of the ditch, frozen in place by the glare of the headlights. Blythe's foot slammed hard against the brake peddle, his hands clenched around the wheel as the tires locked, refusing to come to a stop on the icy road. The creature stayed unmoving as the car approached and Blythe could only close his eyes as the inevitable happened.  
*Thud*

"Oh god… Why didn't you move, you stupid piece of…" Blythe cut his cursing short as the vehicle came to a gradual stop, the front end dipping slightly into the ditch. His foot was still pressed firmly on the brakes, the red glow of the taillights filling his rearview mirror. He sat there for several seconds, his mind a complete blank, refusing to process what had just occurred.

"Damn it…" Blythe angrily shifted into park and unbuckled his seatbelt. As much as he didn't want to look, he knew that he had to. The painful twinge in his heartstrings wouldn't ease up unless he checked on what he hit. Best case scenario, whatever it was that he had hit was already dead. If not…

Blythe reached over to the glove box, fishing around until he felt the round contours of a flashlight. It still worked, surprisingly, considering he hadn't touched the thing since he had tossed it in there last winter. He popped open his door, instantly regretting it as the cold wind howled in his face. At least he had the wherewithal to ensure that the door remained unlocked as he exited the vehicle.

He looked around at the barren wasteland that was this stretch of country road. Snow and the darkness of night were the only things that existed outside of the bubble of light given off by his car and flashlight. Hell, there wasn't even the faintest sliver of the moon up in the sky. Blythe breathed a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he trudged towards the rear of the vehicle.

"God damn it…"

The telltale dark lump on the road was moving, struggling as it pulled itself in his direction. Blythe lowered his gaze, looking instead at the trunk of his car. He knew what he had to do and he was already feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. He slowly made his way back to the driver's door, reaching inside and popping the trunk.

The trunk was a mess of oddities that Blythe had been too lazy to arrange in any sort of sensible manner. There was your standard 'winter survival kit' of a heavy blanket, wool sweater and extra mittens and tuques. There was an extension chord, jumper cables, fluorescent safety vest, and even a few traffic pylons that had been 'relocated' from construction zones. And underneath that pile of crap was the baseball bat. He hesitated in grabbing it, but with bat in one hand, flashlight in the other, Blythe turned back towards the creature.

It had gotten closer. Blythe raised the light, focusing it on the creature for the first time. It was a small white furred fox, barely the size of a housecat. Its back half was matted with blood and its rear left leg dragged limply behind it. The fox had stopped moving when the light played across it, its head tilted curiously as it considered the approaching human.

"Don't look at me like that…" Blythe begged as he stood over the fox, which simply looked up at him with pale blue eyes.

Wait… blue eyes? Since when did foxes have blue eyes? Blythe found himself kneeling down beside the fox. Despite the voice of common sense screaming at him not to look, he couldn't help but peer deep into the calm eyes of the fox. There were blue steaks of fur around the eye sockets, forming a 'v' shaped mask across the bridge of its nose. Blythe panned the light along the length of the fox's body, fighting back the urge to gag at the injured leg, noting several other sections of blue fur around the paws and the tip of the tail.

For its part, the fox sat patiently, adopting an almost regal stance as Blythe examined it. It made no sign that it feared Blythe, like most wild animals would naturally behave when near a human being. The fox's breathing was labored, a thick cloud of icy mist lingering about its snout. Strangely enough, even with it being as cold as it was tonight, Blythe felt an even deeper chill coming from the fox's breathing.

He set aside the bat and removed the glove on his right hand. Blythe slowly moved the exposed extremity in front of the beast's eyes, cautiously lowering it closer to the fox's snout. The fox didn't flinch in the slightest as Blythe placed his hand on it, gently petting along the length of the fox's head. The fox was unnaturally cold to the touch.

"Just what the hell are you?"

A soft mewing sound escaped from the fox's mouth. Blythe cringed, fighting off the urge to utter his own 'awww' at the fox's cuteness. He replaced his glove before retrieving the bat. It didn't matter how adorable the little fox was… With that leg injured as badly as it was, there was no way that it could survive on its own out here in the wild. The humane thing to do would be to put it out of its misery…

But it just looked so damn cute as it looked up at Blythe with those unsuspecting blue eyes…

"Bloody hell…" Blythe turned on the heel of his boot, retreating to the open trunk where he irately tossed the bat back into the mess. He collected the spare blanket, lugging the hefty pile of fabric back to the wounded fox.

"Come here you cute little bastard," he coaxed as he heaved the blanket onto the snow in front of the fox. The fox looked down at the blanket, then back at Blythe with the same quizzical expression that it had worn throughout the whole encounter. Blythe motioned towards the blanket, urging the fox to climb atop the crumpled mess. The fox only cocked its head to the side, uttering another weak mewl.

"For the love of… This is why I hate animals…" Blythe crouched down before the fox and cautiously placed a hand under each forelimb. The fox offered no resistance as Blythe shifted the beast onto the blanket. Instantly, the fox nestled itself within the folds of the blanket, apparently quite pleased with the bedding.

Blythe reached under the blanket, carefully lifting the bedspread and its contents off the ground. The fox shifted uncomfortably within the blanket, but quickly settled. Its head popped out of the covers, the tip of its nose brushing against Blythe's chin. Once again, there was the 'awww' threatening to release itself.

"Gaaaa-wummmmmpppphhhh!"

A low, guttural snort cut thru the howling winds. Accompanying it was a sound similar to the clomping a Clydesdale makes as it gallops. Whatever it was that made the noises was very large and sounded very angry. It also sounded like it was coming closer.

"I can already tell this year is going to be a real shitty one…" Blythe muttered to the fox as the rushed towards his car. He managed to shut the trunk with his elbow as he slid past it and sidled up alongside the driver's side door. "Damnit!" Blythe cursed, struggling to pry open the door while holding the wounded fox tightly against his chest.

A second grunt caused Blythe to stop fumbling with the door handle and nervously look up. Centered in the glare of the headlights was a large moose, its hulking frame practically convulsing with every fierce breath. The remains of a barbed wire fence lay tangled around the beast's hooves, dark splotches of blood-soaked fur glistening in the light. Blythe could only hope he was imagining the translucent cloud of blackness that surrounded the moose and the bloodthirsty glare that was locked firmly within its eyes.

Blythe slowly snaked a gloved hand back to the handle, praying silently that his movements didn't spark any further interest from the moose. A thought ran thru his mind, causing a faint smirk to cross his lips; at least he hadn't hit the moose. Blythe probably wouldn't be conscious right now if his car had struck the imposing beast. And given the relatively small size of his car, the moose probably would be no worse for wear after the accident. Hell, the damn thing probably outweighed his car.

*Ding, ding, ding, ding*

The moose's head snapped in Blythe's direction as the car reminded Blythe that the keys were still in the ignition. The beast began pawing at the snow with a front hoof, a sight that Blythe knew all too well meant it intended to charge. He swung the door open and quickly dropped into the driver's seat. He was none too gentle as he plopped the fox and blanket down in the passenger's seat, a fact that the fox was keen to voice its displeasure at.

A solid thud rocked the vehicle backwards, causing Blythe's head to bounce off the headrest. He raised his eyes to timidly peek over the dashboard. "Oh… damn…" Blythe let out a lengthy whimper as he spotted the large crumpled dent that the moose had left in the front end of his car.

The moose had turned about, trotting back a few paces and appeared ready to lower a second charge into the car. Blythe flicked on the high beams, which only served to spur the moose on in its assault. This second strike rocked the car more solidly than the first had, enough so that a couple airbags exploded open. If it wasn't for the ringing headache that he suddenly had developed, Blythe would be feeling a painful divot being dug into his wallet.  
"Screw this," Blythe muttered, slamming the vehicle into reverse and jolting the car back onto the road. Just as quickly, he put it into drive and floored the accelerator. The car's tires spun wildly to gain traction in the snow, but after a few seconds, the car lurched forward… Only to be swiftly halted by another charge from the deranged moose. This time, the moose kept its head lowered against the front of the car, its antlers practically engulfing the entire width of the hood.

Albeit a completely irrational act, Blythe felt compelled to crack his window enough for him to shout out, "What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid, overgrown, ugly excuse for a unicorn?"

…

Uhm, yeah… we'll just go ahead and diagnose Blythe with a concussion on that one…

Blythe's foot remained firmly pressed down on the accelerator, but despite the best efforts of the little car, no forward progress was being made against the moose's blockage. In fact, the vehicle was even losing ground against the moose. Loud whines of protest sounded from every part of the car.

The moose suddenly loosened its hold on the car, raising its head off the hood. The tires of the little vehicle spun wildly in the icy grooves it had dug. Before Blythe's car could regain traction, the moose lowered its head in a crushing headbutt against the hood. The cries from the vehicle quickly became defeated whimpers as the engine choked out a few final gasps before giving out.

"Damnit!" Blythe slammed his hand against the already deflated airbag. He was trembling, although this time it wasn't from the deathly chill that had overtaken the confines of the vehicle. This easily was the most terrifying situation that he had stumbled into during his entire life. To think, that moose out there could very well kill him tonight. God, this might count amongst the most embarrassing ways to go…

"Rarrrf!"

The sharp yip that sounded from his right reminded Blythe that he wasn't the only creature inside the vehicle. The little white fox had unearthed itself from the blanket and had its neck craned to look over the dash. Its inquisitive blue eyes seemed to be set firmly on the moose as it dropped a second headbutt against the car. There was fierceness in the fox's eyes, almost as if the tiny beast was excited by the events that had unfolded. At least Blythe wasn't the only one suffering from some brain damage…

The fox stood, gingerly straining its injured hind leg as it rose. The fox began pacing along the length of the seat, but clearly was still bothered by the shredded mess that was its hind quarter. It turned its head, glaring angrily at its own wound. What happened next was something that Blythe would remember for the rest of his life.

A thin stream of icy mist bellowed out from the fox's snout. The mist crept along the length of its body, eventually settling over the wounded section. Then, much to Blythe's surprise, the mist began crystallizing around the leg, forming a layer of icy scales over the open wound. The fox then looked up at Blythe, offering a strange grin to which Blythe could only shake his head at in disbelief. One paw began batting eagerly against the windshield.

"Don't tell me you want to go out there little guy…"

The fox's head bobbed up and down excitedly. Its lips were pulled back in a snarl and Blythe couldn't help but notice that a similar icy coating had taken to the beast's fangs.

Ok, now it all made sense. Blythe had fallen asleep at the wheel and had crashed into a telephone pole during his nap. He had to be dreaming this crap up. How else could you explain an ice fox and a moose that was the living embodiment of darkness? Yet, the dull throbbing against his temple and the trickle of warm liquid that slid down his cheek claimed otherwise.

A third headbutt sent the car skidding back another few feet. The fox had hopped up onto the dash, its face pressed firmly against the glass as it stared down the mad moose. Blythe shook his head again, sending fresh numbing jolts of pain through his cranium. He swore that he heard a voice within his head telling him 'just let the fox out, its not like it'll make things worse off than they already are for you'. And who argues with the disembodied voice that's a figment of your rattled subconscious?

Blythe reached across the cockpit of the car and pulled the handle for the passenger side door. The fox didn't hesitate for a second, quickly hopping onto the snow. The moose seemed to have noticed the door being opened and had trotted over to that side of the car. Suddenly, the moose jumped backwards, its front legs rearing up in surprise. In front of it was the little white fox, nipping angrily at the moose's hooves.

"That little bastard is actually trying to fight off a rampaging moose…" Blythe found himself opening his own door, drawn on by curiosity to witness the spectacle. He stepped out of the vehicle, carefully making his way around the damaged front end and into a position where he was able to clearly see the turmoil.

The moose was repeatedly being forced backwards, but with every step it took, it attempted to stomp on the little white blur that was biting at its legs. The fencepost and wire that it had been dragging along had wrapped itself around its hind legs, causing the behemoth to struggle to stay standing. Puncture marks dotted the moose's legs, each wound already frozen over with bloody crystalline ice droplets. But the moose wasn't going down, despite the mess that it had gotten itself into. A front hoof came snapping down, firmly planting itself along the backside of the little fox. The fox yelped out in pain as the moose pinned it against the road.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blythe was running towards the moose, his shoulder lowered much like a running back in a game of football. Difference is, there isn't a defensive lineman in the world that weighs eight-hundred pounds. Blythe's shoulder connected solidly against the moose's side, but his attempted tackle didn't budge the moose even an inch.

The moose looked back over its shoulder, its massive antlers nearly taking Blythe's head clean off his shoulders. It deliberately turned to consider the foolish human that had attempted to attack it. "Heh… that… wasn't very smart…" Blythe mumbled as he took a few nervous steps away from the large beast.

Suddenly, the little fox jumped up onto the moose's backside, its tiny jaw latching steadfastly onto the moose's neck. The moose reared up again, shaking its head desperately trying to dislodge the annoying pest. The fox kept his bite locked in, refusing to let go, regardless of how violent the moose' protests were becoming. Finally, the tangle about its hind legs served to upset the moose, and the large creature tumbled onto its side.

The fox had hopped off just before the impact with the ground and just as quickly jumped back in, reattaching itself now to the jugular of the formidable beast. The moose's front legs thrashed wildly, trying to kick away the fox, but it just couldn't reach the tiny canine. After a few moments of struggling, the moose's throes simmered down until eventually coming to a complete halt.

The fox let out a low, threatening growl before releasing its grip. Blythe jumped as the moose immediately clambered back to its feet. It began kicking desperately with its hind legs, gradually untangling them from the barbed wire. Once free, the moose hastily limped away from the wrecked car and vanished into the night.

Blythe found himself suddenly week in the knees, gravity and a lack of energy forcing him to take a seat on the road. The fox tentatively walked in front of Blythe, reacting in a similar manner as it also collapsed into the snow. It was panting heavily, blood mixed with slobber quickly freezing into a puddle around its open mouth. Blythe reached over to the fox, patting it gently on the head. "You're a crazy little bastard." The fox lifted its head lazily in recognition of the compliment before returning to its exhausted respite.

Several minutes ticked by with the two passed out alongside each other. The adrenaline had run its course and Blythe was now acutely aware of the freezing atmosphere that he was in. It took quite some effort, but he managed to return to his feet. He looked back at the fox, which also grudgingly had gotten up out of the snow, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to sit inside the car." Blythe didn't have to look to know that the little fox was trotting along behind him. Well, trotting as well as a quadruped could with one leg essentially encased in a cast made of ice.

The fox actually beat Blythe back to the open door of the car and seated itself on the road at the base of the door. It craned its neck to peer up at Blythe, almost as if it was waiting to receive permission before hopping inside the vehicle. Blythe motioned with his hand for the fox to go ahead, which the little canine promptly obeyed, jumping up onto the driver's seat.

Blythe found himself stifling a yawn as he stepped up to the door. He promptly came to the conclusion that, even should the car miraculously still be alive, he was in no shape to continue the almost hour long drive that still lay ahead of him before getting home. Blythe reached inside the vehicle, removing the key from the ignition and dropping it onto the driver's seat beside the fox. He closed the open door, choosing instead to crawl into the back seat. He pulled the blanket from the passenger seat thru the gap between the front seats and wrapped it as tightly as he could manage around him. Sleep was calling and he could always deal with the rest of this crap in the morning.

As Blythe stretched out across the back seat of the wrecked car, he felt something pawing at the blanket. He opened one eye, spotting the fox hesitantly gauging Blythe's reaction before hopping up alongside him on the back seat. The little white fox took a few probing steps over Blythe's passed out form before eventually curling up in a little ball in the nook created between Blythe's legs. Blythe smiled, one final thought crossing his mind before sleep overtook him.

"Maybe this year won't be so bad after all…"

*End Chapter 1*

_Author's Note: Well, there you have it, the first chapter of 'In Our World'! I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave me a comment/review giving me your feedback, as I'd love to hear from you._

_Now, to answer some questions that I'd like to hope are brewing. Moving forward, I plan on updating once-a-week on a predetermined day. So, barring a creative roadblock, expect the next chapter on Friday of next week. As for the chapter length… I'd expect that to drop to around 3,500 words/chapter, give or take._

_Next Chapter Preview: Hey, Blythe here. What a god damned bloody mess I've gotten myself into. And why are you looking so smug you little furry bastard? Look, we've got to get you to a vet or something. Maybe then we can figure out just exactly what you are. Wait… all the veterinarian clinics are closed because of the holiday? Damnit. Maybe 'she' can help… Next time on 'In Our World': "It Needs a Name". You mean I can't keep calling it 'Little Bastard'?_


	2. Chapter 2

In Our World

_Author's Note: Well, it's Friday, and as promised, here's the second chapter. I appreciate the interest that has been shown by the various readers so far and I hope that I can appropriately reward you with another good chapter. Enjoy!_

Chapter 2: It Needs a Name

Blythe awoke, greeting the morning with a head still lost in a foggy haze of jumbled memories, accompanied by the occasional dull throb of pain. He stretched slightly, but quickly retracted into the fetal position when the cold air crept underneath his blanket. An annoyed grumble sounded from the little fox as Blythe's movements shook it awake. The fox shifted, turning about once before returning to its previous spot.

*Tap, tap, tap*

The noise came from one of the driver side windows. Blythe poked his head out from beneath the blanket, eyeing the source of the noise with an annoyed glare. There was a small circle of frost scraped away and the silhouette of a person pacing about outside was outlined in the early morning light.

Blythe lifted himself into a seated position, a motion that caused a wave of nausea to sweep over him. He fought off the urge to vomit long enough to reach over and pop open a door. Thankfully, the individual outside wasn't standing too close and avoided the mess that now pooled on the roadside.

"You okay, sonny?"

Blythe offered a sarcastic look up at the man. He was an older man, with a thick grizzly beard that hung well down the front of his checkered jacket. "I'm alive," Blythe commented with a groan.

The man chuckled as he wandered up to the front of the vehicle. He gestured towards the hood, "You hit something?"

"Nope… A moose hit me."

"They'll do that."

The few remaining intact brain cells within Blythe's head cried out in protest at the continued assault against sensibility, especially given that it was so damned early in the morning. He was tempted to shake his head in an attempt to make sense of the old man, but that would probably only cause more damage. Blythe gradually forced himself out of the vehicle, joining the bearded man outside. The old man was prying at the hood, trying to dislodge it from the crumpled mess that was the front end of the car. Blythe remained silent as the hood popped open and the old man intently studied the inner workings of the vehicle. "Is it as bad as it looked on the outside?" Blythe asked after a few minutes.

"Hard to say…" The old man shrugged his shoulders. "You're going to need some extensive body work to repair that damage. But beyond that, there doesn't seem to be any serious damage… As for you…"

Blythe waved a dismissive hand, "I'll be fine…" He trailed off as he noticed the dried blood on the backside of his glove. His hand instinctually went to his right temple, feeling the large bump that had formed overnight. He gave the old man a casual smile, "Damage has already been done, can't undo that. I doubt it'll be the death of me."

The old man nodded, although he looked rather hesitant doing so. "If you say so… Well, give her a go, see if she'll start."

Blythe returned to the driver's door, but paused before opening the door. He started patting his pockets, panic setting in when he didn't hear the telltale jingle of his car keys. "Oh wait…" Now he remembered… He had left the keys on the driver's seat last night. Blythe yanked open the door and found himself greeted by the fox seated on the seat. The car keys dangled from its teeth.

Blythe accepted the proffered gift from the fox and repaid it with a gentle pat on the head. The fox smirked happily and hopped across to the passenger's seat. Blythe froze up as he saw the fox's hind quarters, realizing that he wasn't the only one that was injured. Although he cast aside his own injuries as nothing more than an inconvenience, the fox definitely required medical attention, even though the fox appeared unbothered by the tattered limb.

"We're going to get you to a vet," Blythe commented as he stuck the key into the ignition. Muttering a quick wish, Blythe gave the key a twist. Surprising, the engine instantly responded with a healthy purr. "Booyah!" Blythe shouted, pumping his fist.

The old man dropped the hood back into place and had joined Blythe at the open door. He rested a hand on Blythe's shoulder, "I don't know if I feel quite right leaving you go on your own… But, you're old enough to make your own decisions. Just do me a favor… I'll give you my number. I want you to give me a call and let me know you made it home safely."

"I owe you my thanks, Mister." Blythe pulled his cell out of his pocket and input the number the old man gave him. "I don't really come down this way very often, but the next time I do, let me buy you a coffee. It's the least I could do."

Blythe extended a hand to the old man, who gladly accepted the handshake. "Sounds good. You take care of yourself, Blythe, and say hi to your old man for me."

Blythe was dumbfounded as the old man walked away from his car. He searched his memory banks, trying to recall where the old man knew him from, but was drawing blanks. The comment about Blythe's father didn't help any, seeing as his old man was one of those people that had a knack for knowing absolutely anybody and everybody. But as the old man drove by, waving as he did, realization dawned on Blythe. "Typical…" Blythe muttered, recognizing his father's company's logo on the side of the old man's truck. It seemed like the more Blythe attempted to distance himself from his folks, the more he found himself relying on them. With a grumble, Blythe put the car into drive.

(-)

A half hour later, Blythe stood in front of a dark building, muttering a string of curses as he pulled at the door, just to find it locked. "Closed for the fricking holidays… What kind of garbage is this?" Blythe had the fox bundled up in the blanket once again and held the small creature tightly against his chest. He looked down into the blue eyes of the fox, which simply looked back at him innocently. "Don't worry little guy, we'll try the next vet."

…

"Seriously, this one too?"

…

The third stop yielded similar results, leaving Blythe practically fuming as he sat back at the wheel of his damaged vehicle. The little fox sat regally in the passenger's seat, apparently completely unworried by the lack of medical attention that it was in dire need of. Blythe patted the fox behind the ears, offering a meek smile, "You know, you're a pretty tough little bastard." The fox cocked its head, offering up what essentially amounted to a smile of its own.

Blythe let out a lengthy sigh as he muttered "What to do, what to do…" to himself. He sat quietly for a few moments, trying to mull over his options. Wetaskiwin had always been a stagnant town and had seen next to zero growth during Blythe's lifetime. That being said, the chances that a new vet clinic had opened up in the last few years were nearly non-existent.

Then there were still the issues of getting his car into a shop for repairs and procuring a replacement vehicle for the time being… More than likely, Blythe would have the same kind of luck with both of those avenues. By the looks of it, the only businesses that appeared open today were the coffee shops. Well, he could take the fox to the hospital and cause a scene there… It wouldn't accomplish anything for the fox, but at least it'd put Blythe in better spirits.

"Wait a second…"

An idea had suddenly formulated in Blythe's mind. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced his cell phone. "Come on, still have her number…" He muttered as he scanned his contacts. "Ah! Yes!" There was the name that he had been looking for, Jewel, followed by a three-letter code 'DNA'. Blythe's thumb hovered over the 'call' button, questioning whether or not it was worth the potential trouble by bothering her. But one look at the innocent little fox made up his mind for him.

*Ring… Ring… Ring…*

"Come on… answer…"

*Ring… Ring… Click*

"_You have some nerve calling me…_"

Blythe swallowed, suddenly feeling a mixture of nerves, shame, and guilt. "Yeah, I know… Listen Jewel, I know I can't fix what happened between us with just a simple phone call and I'm still not entirely sure that I want to fix it…"

"_Then why the hell are you calling me? Did you make a New Year's Resolution to piss off every jilted lover you've ever had?_"

There she goes, being difficult, just like Blythe expected from Jewel. The two were a good two and a half years removed from their relationship, but it wasn't quite so easy to move on after over three years together. They had their problems, but what couple didn't? For the time being, at least, Blythe had to put aside the personal issues he had with the girl. "Look Jewel, I need a favor."

"_This ought to be good._" The voice on the other end was full of sarcasm.

"You're still studying Animal Biology at the U of A, right? You'd be… in your fourth year, right?"

"_Yes…_"

"I've got something that you've just got to see, but on a condition."

"_Would you just hurry up and ask me the damned favor already?_" Blythe allowed himself a smile. Jewel had never been one to show patience. Despite the annoyance she was attempting to portray, Blythe could detect a hint of curiosity in Jewel's voice. The fact that Blythe was willing to overlook their tumultuous past in order to ask for Jewel's help must mean this was important.

"I've got a fox cub with me; a super cute, white as snow, adorable little fox cub…" Jewel just loved animals, especially cute ones, "It's hurt pretty badly and all the vet clinics here in Wetaskiwin are closed for the holidays… So I was wondering if perhaps you'd be able to help it out."

"…"

The silence on the other end of the line was telling. Jewel was considering it, but needed one last little push. "Don't do this for me. Do it for the super cute baby fox."

"_Damnit Blythe…_"

"Is that a yes?"

"_Yes it is… You remember where my parents live, don't you?_"

"Of course I do. I figured you'd be back in town visiting them for the holidays. How are the folks and Jimmy?"

"_Don't try to make small-talk with me Blythe. I'm doing this for the fox, not you. Get it over here as soon as possible, alright?_"

"Will do, see you soon."

"_Joy…_"

The call ended and Blythe found himself wearing a strained smile. "At least I didn't have to sell my soul to get her help…" He looked over at the fox, which still wore a stoic expression. "You'll like Jewel. The two of you actually have more in common than I ever did. She's an ice queen… you're an ice fox… perfect for each other."

The fox's ears lowered against its skull as it dropped down into a laying position. Blythe allowed himself a laugh, "Yeah, that'd be my reaction too. I'm actually being nice calling her an ice queen. She's really just a bitch… Did you just roll your eyes? I didn't know it was possible for animals to do that…"

If you had told Blythe that he'd ever willingly be seeing Jewel again during his lifetime, he'd have called you crazy. Then again, he'd also have done the same thing if you had told him that he'd be taking care of an ice-breathing fox or have been the victim of a pissed off moose creating a crater in the hood of his car. Yeah, that settles it… He was having one hell of a strong drink whenever he got home.

Ten minutes later, Blythe found himself driving thru the rich part of town. Of course, with this being Wetaskiwin, the 'rich part' looked like the average section of any other town in the entire province. Although, it was nice to be out of the run down section with all the pawn shops and liquor stores and iron bars across every window…

He was surprised to spot Jewel standing at the end of the driveway of her family's home. She wore a lengthy black coat that practically glowed as the reflections of sunlight were captured within the coat's numerous silver buckles. A large silver case was resting on the ground beside her. Blythe couldn't help but smirk when he noticed she was wearing a black and white toque with little kitty ears. He had given her that toque as a Christmas gift a number of years ago. Blythe was honestly surprised that she had kept it, let alone was wearing it.

Jewel carefully stepped back as Blythe pulled his car alongside the curb in front of her. She was wearing a look of pure shock as her gaze stayed locked on the front end of the car. Blythe popped open his door and took a step outside, instantly greeted with Jewel's incredulous questions, "What the hell did you do to… Oh my god, you're covered in blood! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Good to see you too, Jewel."

"Piss off Blythe. What the hell happened to you?"

"I got hit by a moose."

"Before or after it destroyed your car?"

"…" Blythe gave Jewel a sarcastic glare, "I'm fine, thanks for asking. I just need to wash my face and I'll be good as new… Now this little…" He trailed off when he peered back into the cabin of the vehicle. The little fox wasn't in the passenger seat like it had been when the car had stopped. "Where did that little bastard go?"

"Oh my god! It's so cute!" That answered the question of the missing fox. Blythe looked back in Jewels direction to see her kneeling alongside the little fox, gingerly scratching behind both of the beast's ears. "And your eyes… and your fur… it's all blue! And your breath is so cold… Not surprising that the heater in that piece of crap doesn't work anymore."

Always with an insult aimed his way whenever she could manage it. "For your information, my car's heater works perfectly fine. The cold breath of his is natural. It's essentially made from ice."

Jewel glanced up as Blythe joined her. She gave Blythe a look that could very likely have killed a man, but Blythe had seen it so often that he had developed a resistance to it. "Are you high? There's no way a mammal can be made out of ice."

"That's what I thought too, but it's true. The little bastard can breathe ice. In fact, it encased its bad leg in an ice cast before it attacked the moose last night."

"Bullshit." Jewel repositioned herself to get a better look at the fox's wounded leg. She removed one glove and gingerly prodded the area of the wound. The fox grimaced slightly in discomfort at Jewel's touch but didn't vocalize its displeasure. "Holy shit that's cold… How can a mammal have an internal temperature that low?" She looked carefully at the fox, clearly not believing what was in front of her.

Blythe stayed silent while Jewel sat in a stupor. He was tempted to rub this in her face, but he also knew that the time for petty squabbles had ended. "So…" He began, breaking Jewel out of her trance.

"Oh, yes…" She stood back up, retreating a few steps to grab the silver case that she had left further up the driveway. Jewel motioned for Blythe and the fox to follow her as she walked back towards the house. "Carry the fox, I don't want my parent's carpets stained with blood… And as soon as you put the fox down, you're cleaning yourself up too Blythe."

"Yes ma'am." Blythe scooped up the fox and fell into step behind Jewel. A wave of nostalgia filled Blythe as he stepped inside Jewel's family home. He had been here so many times all those years ago, yet everything felt so familiar, almost as if he had been here just a day ago. The horribly ugly painting of a tree still hung just off the foyer. The adjoining living room was arranged the exact same way it had been back then. There was even the familiar smell of her mother's cooking wafting down from the kitchen. Smelt like fresh cookies if he wasn't mistaken.

Jewel caught Blythe lost in his memories and rudely brought him back to reality with a sharp jab to the shoulder. "The fox first, then you can have a cookie if I decide that I don't still hate your guts."

The pair kicked off their shoes and Jewel removed her coat, kitty hat, and mitts. Blythe couldn't help but stare at the bright green mane of hair that tumbled out from beneath the cat toque. "Green? Since when?"

"Since I gave up trying to fit in as a normal member of society, that's when."

"Uh-huh, sure thing, Miss Dean's List."

Jewel glared at Blythe, but refrained from commenting further. Instead, she proceeded down the nearby set of stairs, disappearing into the basement. Blythe followed, like an obedient little puppy, and once again resumed losing himself to nostalgia. A grin crossed his face as he spotted the couch where… "Get your mind out of the gutter Blythe…" Jewel punched him arm again. Yeah, she knew exactly what memory Blythe was recalling, a fact that was evident by the reddish hue that had taken to her cheeks.

They continued down a hallway, eventually arriving in a small room that appeared to be undergoing renovations. The floor was uncovered concrete and three of the walls were little more than the bare frames. A crudely constructed work table was stationed in the center of the room, a few random tools strewn atop it. Jewel removed the tools and motioned for Blythe to set the fox down on the table. As he did so, Jewel proceeded to hoist the silver case she had been carrying onto the table alongside the fox.

"I'll be right back," Jewel promised, aiming the remark mostly at the fox, before leaving the room. She returned a minute later with a cloth and an ice cream pail filled with warm water. She set the water down at the base of the table. "Okay, lift the fox up for a moment." Blythe obeyed and Jewel proceeded to wipe the table clean. When she was finished, Blythe set the fox back down. The fox appeared to detest the warm aura that rose off the table, but slowly settled into its usual regal seated position.

Blythe didn't bother waiting for Jewel to remind him that she wanted him to clean himself up as well. He removed his own jacket and toque and exited the room. "Really… You're growing a damned ponytail Blythe? Since when?" Jewel's call followed Blythe as he made his way back along the hallway.

"Since I quit giving a crap what other people thought. I think that's about the same time I dumped you."

A snort of laughter echoed down the hall, "You dumped me? Someone's delusional. I was the one that kicked your sorry ass to the curb."

Blythe ducked into the washroom and finally got a chance to take a look at the bump on his forehead. "Oh wow…." His wound looked a hell of a lot worse than he had expected it to. There was a fairly sizeable gash running just above his right eyebrow and a good third of his face was caked with his own blood. He turned on the tap and splashed a handful of water onto his face. The warm water stung his face, but it was a welcome shock.

Several minutes later, Blythe was ready to return to Jewel and the fox in their makeshift operating room. Long before he arrived, he could hear Jewel's raised voice uttering a string of curses along with a "God damnit, quit biting me!"

"Having trouble?" Blythe couldn't help but observe as he rejoined Jewel's side at the operating table. There was a small silver tray of bloodied surgical instruments off to one side and the bucket of water was now a murky red.

Jewel and the fox were engaged in a standoff. Jewel had a pair of surgical tweezers in one hand and a needle in the other, but both gloved hands were held high above the fox's head. The fox leaned back warily, its blue eyes following every subtle twitch Jewel's hands made. Its teeth were barred and it snarled threateningly every time the hands dipped within a foot of it.

"It's so much easier to take apart a dead animal than it is to try putting back together a live one…" Jewel glared at the fox, "And this little bastard started biting me when I tried putting the first stitch in."  
Blythe smiled at Jewel's expense. "You know, I've been calling him a little bastard ever since I found him."

"Well that's what it is!" Jewel brought her elbows together and attempted to force the fox to lie down, but the fox scuttled out from underneath the pressure. "You'd better hold it down from here on out. It's your pet; you deserve to be the one being bitten."  
"Pet? I don't think so. I just found him, that doesn't mean that he's mine!"

"Oh really?" Jewel stopped her attempts at pinning the fox long enough to glare at Blythe. "You've already seen how domesticated it is. Either you're taking it in as a pet and allowing me to study it, or else I'm taking it to the university and allowing the 'scientists' to experiment on it. They'll be real interested in opening this bugger up and figuring out which organs mutated to give it that sub-zero internal temperature. I'll be much gentler… Unless this bastard keeps biting me!"

Blythe stepped around to the other side of the table and gently placed his hands on the front haunches of the fox. "Oy buddy, calm down. Jewel's not going to hurt you…" He looked up, faltering momentarily in Jewel's emerald eyes, "Did you try giving it an anesthetic?"  
"Of course I tried to. Emptied two whole vials of sedatives on the little bastard and it still is raring for a fight. I can't use any more on it or else I might risk overdosing…" She glared down at the fox, who returned Jewel's angered look in full. "I will punch you in the face if you bite me again, you understand?"

"You're a terrible vet."  
"Animal biologist undergraduate. If you want to be ungrateful, I'll give this bastard the equivalent of a sugar high and send the two of you on your way."

"Understood." Blythe laughed nervously, trying to alternate between reassuring petting and forcibly pinning the fox's head to the table. It was gradually putting up less of a fight. Whether that was a result of the sedatives finally kicking in or the fox had finally accepted its fate, it didn't really matter. Jewel quickly got to work making repairs to the torn ligaments.

"So, have you decided on a name for this little bastard or is that going to stick?"

"I've never given the idea of owning a pet any thought, let alone spent any time picking a name for one… What'd you suggest?"

"Makoto?"

"Oh, go to hell Jewel. I still hate you for showing me Kanon. God that show left me feeling depressed for two whole weeks after."

"But it's such a good show! And the name works perfectly! Kanon was all about snow and Makoto was a fox…"

Blythe shook his head firmly, "I'm not going to name my pet after something that reminds me that I cried like a little bitch."

"Awww, that was so touching when you cried for Makoto…"

"Piss off…"

"How about Kitsune then?"

"Sticking with the anime theme, are we? You're such a nerd."

Jewel stuck her tongue out playfully at Blythe. "You know it and you loved it."

Blythe once again shook his head, more to block out the image of Jewel's new tongue piercing than to say no to the suggested name. "Kitsune is too… generic."

"Well, how about Yuki? It means snow, amongst other things."

"What's with all the girl names?"

"Oh, you didn't know that the fox was actually a female? Look!" Jewel set aside the tweezers and gently lifted the injured leg.

"I don't need to see that!" Blythe protested loudly, much to Jewel's delight, as she laughed at Blythe's embarrassment.

"Still the gentleman like always, aren't we Blythe?" Jewel smiled as she returned the leg to its previous position. She then reached into her case and produced a large roll of gauze and began wrapping it around the extremity. "I'm sure that Kityuki will try her hardest to gnaw this off, so you'll have to keep an eye on her and stop her from doing that."

"Kityuki?"

"Yep, Kityuki. Snow fox cub. And it sounds cute." Jewel sounded happy with the name she had decided on for the little fox. The fox still shot metaphorical daggers at her from under Blythe's restraint. Jewel leaned in close to the fox, leveling her gaze so that it rested barely an inch from the fox's blue eyes, "But, I swear to god, if you bite me again, I'll make sure that you aren't cute for much longer."

Scary…

Seeing as Jewel appeared finished with her administrations, Blythe eased up his grip on Kityuki. The little fox appeared ready to instantly pounce at Jewel, but eased up before launching itself. Instead, it let out a loud yawn directly in Jewel's face before dropping back to that table and curling into a tiny ball.

"See, she can behave! You just have to not be waving a scalpel in front of her face…" Blythe remarked smugly, "Now, about that cookie…"

Jewel scowled at Blythe as she removed the latex gloves. She studied him for a good twenty seconds before finally cracking a thin smile, "I guess hate's a bit too strong of a term… Go ahead, help yourself."

"Thanks Jewel. I don't hate you either."

"Piss off Blythe or else I won't ask you to stay for supper."

"Ooo, that sounds like a good idea. I guess you talked me into being nice to you for the rest of the afternoon."

Jewel put a hand over her eyes, shaking her head, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Blythe smiled wickedly, "Only if we wind up on that couch again."

"Piss off."

_Author's Note: Well, there's chapter 2 in the books. It wound up being a bit longer than I had expected, but I just had so much fun writing the banter between Blythe and Jewel that I ended up getting a little carried away. Oh wells. Hopefully Jewel endears herself to you readers; I've got big plans for her involvement in the story. Oh, and as promised, we'll stick with the Friday update for next week as well!_

Next chapter preview: Ok Jewel, all we're asking is for you to sit nicely and say a little something about the next chapter. Can you do that for us? "Piss off." Come on, its only nine words! All you have to say is 'I was wrong and I forgive Blythe for everything.' *Crack!* … Okay then… Next time on 'In Our World': "You're On the News!" Can someone call a medic, Blythe's unconscious…


End file.
